


Smudged Slate

by detectivejigsaw



Series: Twangst Stories [8]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Amnesiac Stan Pines, Angst, Confusion, Episode: s02e20 Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls, Gen, Hurt/Comfort (sort of), Sad Mabel Pines, Sad Pines in general, Stan trying to figure things out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 04:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/detectivejigsaw/pseuds/detectivejigsaw
Summary: What the heck happened?Where was he?Then a far more worrying thought: WHO was he?Stan's thoughts after he's had his memories erased and the world is restored, just before everyone starts work restoring them.  Just a little bittersweet drabble that's been asking to be told.





	Smudged Slate

What the heck happened?

Where was he?

Then a far more worrying thought: _who_ was he?

Okay, okay, calm down.

_What’s the first thing you remember?_

With a small chill of fear, this question in his thoughts produced no more answers than the first two.

At least he knew how to talk and breathe and stuff, he could remember some abstract concepts and colors and he knew that if you touched a hot stove it would burn you, even if he couldn’t remember how he knew, like if he’d ever done it by experience or something.

When he searched his brain for some clue as to his identity, or why he was kneeling on the ground somewhere that sounded like outdoors, there was just a big, blank...nothing.

Finally, in an attempt to get at least _some_ kind of answers, he opened his eyes, tried to focus his vision.

Was he wearing glasses?  The knowledge that he didn’t have 20/20 vision was oddly comforting; it said something about who he was.

* * *

 He was in a forest.

Huh.

Lots of trees everywhere, sunlight filtering through them, strange brightly colored creatures-no wait, those were people.

 

A girl, wearing braces, a brightly colored sweater and an expression of joy was bounding towards him, carrying some kind of funny red hat; following her were a little boy and an old man, both looking a lot more solemn.  All of them had very similar faces; he thought they must be related somehow. The kids looked like they could be siblings, but the man was too old to be their father; maybe he was their grandpa?

“Oh my gosh, Grunkle Stan, you did it!” the girl exclaimed, as she unexpectedly placed the funny hat on top of his head.

Did it?  Did what?  And what the heck was a grunkle?

 

But she seemed very happy to see him, beaming like he’d just saved the world or something.  Maybe this hat was an award for something good he’d done?

Hesitantly he gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile; maybe this nice girl who thought he did something good could give him some answers.

“Oh, uh, hey there...kiddo.”  He searched for some kind of name to attach to her, got nothing.  This led to his follow-up question: “What’s your name?”

Her smile started to fall away, and she said more hesitantly, “Grunkle Stan?”

“Who you talkin’ to?”  He glanced over his shoulders to see if there was someone behind him.  There wasn’t. Did that mean Grunkle Stan was him? Was his first name Grunkle, or was it some kind of title, like ‘Chief’ or ‘King’?  If so, there had to be some kind of mistake. He didn’t think he deserved to be the chief of anything, if he couldn’t even remember who he was, or anything before he’d opened his eyes.

“C-c’mon, it’s me!” the girl was protesting more urgently now.  “It’s me, Grunkle Stan. It’s me!” Her voice became desperate as the boy, who had a pretty nice hat himself, tugged her away from him.  He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

 

Finally the old guy spoke, in a really deep, sad voice.

“We had to erase his mind to defeat Bill.  It’s all gone.”

Erase his-what?  They had to be talking about him, but erasing his mind?  That was something that only happened in science fiction.  Right?

“Stan has no idea, but he did it.  He saved the world.”

Wait, so he _did_ save the world?  This didn’t look like a world that had just been saved.  No wrecked buildings, no dead people anywhere, no fires. Just beautiful, unblemished (did he normally use words like unblemished?) forest everywhere he looked.

The old guy came closer, staring down at him with an expression he didn’t completely understand.  “He saved me.” He knelt in front of him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

_Whoa, he has six fingers.  Cool. Unless that’s the norm for people around here-_

Before he could get a good look at the kids’ hands to see if they had six fingers too, the old guy said, his tone becoming choked, “You’re our hero, Stanley,” and pulled him into a surprisingly tight hug.

* * *

 Hero?

But what had he done?  Something to do with some guy named Bill, he was putting the clues together a little better now, but what?  How had erasing his mind, however that happened, possibly-

Wait, Stanley?

The guy hugging him had called him Stanley.

Then Stanley had to be his name, unless the old man was one of those weirdos who regularly called people by their last name.

Stanley.  Apparently ‘Stan’ for short.

Huh.  It was a nice enough name, he guessed.  Didn’t sound like a hero’s name, though.  That would have to be something like, he didn’t know, Tyrone or something.

 

Either way, he realized that there was something... _nice_ about being hugged by the old guy in front of him (and come to think of it, judging by the sound of his voice and the feeling in some of his bones, maybe he personally was an old guy too, so who was he to talk?).

Dazed and confused and a tiny bit scared though he was, it was comforting to know that he obviously mattered to the man hugging him, and to the two kids who were both in tears now; he felt bad that he couldn’t remember who they were or why he mattered to them, so maybe they wouldn’t have to be so sad.

He may not know who he was beyond a name and a title (Stanley, the hero), but he appeared to be someone who this little group of people loved.

And even though he didn’t understand why, it was like something broken in him had clicked back into place.


End file.
